Legends' Ripples
by NCR Ranger
Summary: The rank and file of the UNSC revere the Spartans; all that they are, and all they can do. But, actually meeting one, is on a whole different level


" A horde of them ! "

With a grand sweep of both hands, his Spanish accent coming through strong, Specialist Alanzo DeClance did his best to emphasize the size of the hostile force to his attentive, if rather small, audience.

He was seated at one of the remarkably long ( and thankfully, clean for a change ) tables in the undinably expansive mess hall of the Marathon-class heavy cruiser ' _Hannibal Barca_ '. With capacity for easily over 200, the hall was rarely not utilizing at least _half_ of that. And, right now was one of those times, with dozens and dozens of naval and Army personnel crowding it, under the bright fluorescent light bars that studded the ceiling, illuminating its cavern-like interior.

Most of them, who weren't shuffling and arguing their way along the steam-shrouded serving line, had taken seats around those long tables, taking bites out of the array of Naval food fare that was generally available in the post-Covenant UNSC. Which, amazingly, was actually quite good- if one could call slightly overcooked Farro and brussels sprouts ' quite good '.

It was better than what many of them expected, though, anyway. Besides, after what most of the troops abaord the _Barca_ had just been through, that overcooked Farro and sprouts were a gourmet buffet for them. They were fresh off of ' Operation Steel Hammer ', an anti-Innsurection offensive on the outer colony world of Mamore. It was a dusty, Medditerranean climated planet dotted with scattered towns and villages that, more often than not, had turned out to be harboring bands of rebellious Insurgents. Trouble was, not _all_ of them were on thier side, which had slowed the whole operation down, as the UNSC had to ascertain who was a target, and who wasn't. Some communities were helpfull and cooperative, while others were annoyingly wary. And of course, others were outright hostile, openly or just flat out refusing to lift a finger at all.

A lot of long, mostly sleepless nights shadowing suspected terrorist leaders to and from their hideouts, high intensity moments when they were busy raiding safehouses, and getting caught in withering, chaotic firefights in the streets of those towns ( or out in the rocky, shrubby cliffs and hills outside them ) , as they tracked down Innsurectionst supply depots and training camps.

Though thier enemy had been mostly armed with weaponry the UNSC hadn't for decades ( and in a few cases, UNSC troops were astonished to find the enemy was using outright _relics_ \- Lee Enfield rifles from the Second World War ), and that they generally lacked a degree of military training ( aside from some who were discovered to be _former_ UNSC, which greatly enraged the deployed forces, regarding those particular Innsurectionists as perfidious traitors ), the fighting had been a slog. Not at all like the fighting against the Covenant. This had been methodical, mayhem. Innsurectionist forces virtually didn't surrender, preferring to fight to the death. Every clash was a bar brawl, both sides giving no quarter, and expecting none.

With all said and done, after all that, they were inundated with tired soliders eager for a time of r and r, before the next campaign commenced. Which explained how some of them were gathered around Lance Corporal DeClance, listening to him recount one of his experiences from that maelstrom they'd come to call Mamore.

" There were 12 of them, you embellisher ", chided fellow Specialist Don Chiramazi, shaking his head, with a bemused smirk. " 12. What were they, Mongols ? "

" Same thing, isn't it ? Stop stealing my thunder in front of the ladies. "

Oh, right.

They weren't alone, at this little section of the table. Across from them, sat two naval medics, who regularly accompanied the ground forces on their assignments. One was an Australian: Bridgette Foster, a brunette with green eyes and a scar trailing down behind her left ear to her jawline. It did nothing to detract from her looks, though.

The other ( to Alanzo's intrest ), was a fellow Spainard; Halicena Mourica, with hazel eyes, a tanned complexion, and short, tan hair pulled back into a bun, with a few strands hanging loose around an oval face.

Having a duo of attractive ladies paying attention to you while you talked and talked, was pretty much every man's ambition, and that may have had something to do with Alanzo's tampering with the details. He did want to leave an impression.

" Well, _if_ it was that many, then you must've been very brave ", mused Bridgette, resting her chin between steepled fingers, one eyebrow raised. She sounded like she actually found this all rather intresting.

" Si. You're the big man on campus ", agreed Haliceana, with a nod. Leaning back, she flicked a hanging strand of hair away, with a slight upward curve of a mouth's corner, just enough to be called a smirk.

At least they hadn't rolled thier eyes and left. Chiramazi had feared they wound as soon as DeClance began speaking, after having had sucsessfully flagged down the girls as they were walking past. He was possessed by a bit of an ego, and kind of liked to let everyone know they could always count on the _legendary_ Alanzo DeClance.

Again.

" It was ", Alanzo concurred, leaning forward, forearms on the table. " I was heading down an alleyway- Dios, the place reeked of mildew- between two warehouses, on the edge of town. It was a starry night, with a full moon. I did not even need my NVGs on ! "

" You sound like you're advertising a nature walk back on the Azores, or something ".

Ignoring Chirmazi's insolent remark ( though he did throw a quick glare his way ), Alanzo continued.

" The air was warm, and I had my M739 out and scanning.I thought ' This seems a little light '. But, it was a good night. We had burned down two warehouses, full of enemy mutions, and routed a detachment of thier forces who been there to defend them. Perhaps adrenaline was still in me "

He paused, and took a swig of his glass of water.

"My squad, was behind me-

" Because otherwise you'd be somewhere else "

" _Cabron_ ! Leave it alone "

A chuckle emenated from both medics, now amused completely.

DeClance, determined to finish in the face of Chiramazi's interferance, persisted:

" So, there we were, in enemy territory. The alley was narrow, but it opened out into a wide open lot, ringed by a fence. We'd be better off out there. I kept going, peeked around the corner-

" And there they were. A _dozen_ of them, all with weapons in hand, coming the other way !"

He shook his head again, drumming fingers on the tabletop.

" Such an inoppritune position for me: They were only few yards away ! These rebels, they were clearly moving to save the warhouse we'd just burned. We'd all caught each other by surprise. That lasted only a few heartbeats, though, because then the firing began. I dropped prone in the dust, and returned fire, as they did the same. I held down my trigger, and worked them over. I heard the sound of MA37's going off behind me; my squad had joined the fight. They were still mostly in cover at the mouth of the alley, but the enemy had nowhere to go. Still, they fought. A poor choice, but brave, I suppose. "

" They're like that ", Haliceana reminded them all, huffing in annoyance. There was a chorus of agreement all around.

" Si. I accounted for 5 personally, and soon, their numbers fell quickly. But, when there were only 2 left, I saw one of them taking aim directly at me. I swear, I could look down the muzzle of his rifle, an MA2B. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him, lining me up.

" My M739 ? Right at that very moment, it clacked empty. Empty ! It had been light, because it was not fully loaded. It was my own mistake, and now I was about to die for it "

DeClance's had grown solemn now, recalling the moment where he thought it was the end for him. He lowered his head for a moment, and even Chiramazi said nothing. The medics eyes widened, and their mouths came open slightly.

" But- "

DeClance's mood had improved again, as he came to a brighter piece of what he had to say.

He raised a fist.

" Just then, just before he could shoot me, someone shot him ! It was an SRS99, no doubt. The enemy shooter was thrown off his feet by the impact, and I heard the ' crack ' of the shot itself, way off in the distance, like a thudnerclap .

" A _perfect_ shot. It came from one of the buildings on the far side of the lot; it must've. I have no idea who landed that shot, only that whoever did it, has my eternal gratitude. If it was a woman, I will kiss her. "

He was reliving the moment all over again: how relived he was to have dodged death, although he didn't know who'd been responsible. It was clear as day, and the other 3 seated with him could tell easily.

He thought the mysterious sniper was a Spartan.

" I hope you thanked your Creator for putting that sniper where he/ she was ", Bridgette told him. " A save like that ? That's divine intervention. "

" Most would call it luck, but I don't belive in luck. Its not realy a thing. You had help, hombre ". Haliceana sided with her fellow medic.

Chiramazi finally spoke up again. " They're onto something. I mean, I didn't know any Spartans were in the area at the time-

" Nor did I ", confessed DeClance.

" - But everyone knows: they're the best shots in the UNSC. They're all crack shooters. So, I'd say its a good guess that whoever saved your hide that night, was a Spartan. "

Nobody was even remotely prepared to dispite that. For a moment, they all thought of how much they all owed to Spartans: 2s and 3's. The towering supersoliders had saved countless UNSC troops over the decades of when the Human race and the Covenant were battling it out, defeating hordes of the alien enemies with only tiny bands of thier own number. Even after the Covenant were defeated, Spartans were still on the tip of the spear, serving as the sheilds for the UNSC's groundpounders.

Stepping in to intervene where they were needed most. The guardians of the footsoldiers.

It left a mark on you, getting one of them to come to your rescue. Like a hero of myth, a knight in gleaming armor.

Like a-

" Oh, my ! "

" Yes, it was a night I will always remember ", DeClance agreed, nodding firmly.

" No- well, yes, you're right- but, Oh ! "

" Dios, over there ! "

To the great confusion of the Specialists, the medics had suddenly gotten distracted. They were seated facing toward the main entrance of the hall, over the shoulders of the Specialists. Up till now, they'd kindly kept their focus on them, not on everyone else who happened to walk by, or enter the hall.

But, all of a sudden, they weren't.

" What- ? " Chiramazi twisted around.

DeClance did likewise.

What they saw caused their jaws to drop.

3 individuals had entered the hall.

All of them were _inhumanly_ tall. Easily well over 6 ft, possibly even 7, dressed in t shirts with numbers printed on them in white, and fatigue trousers.

Two of them were men. The one in the lead, with the number ' 117', seemed to be careved out of solid granite; just a _giant,_ with shoulders that were wide enough to sit on, biceps that were as big around as both your hands wrapped around them, and a torso that seemed to be made of armor plating. His dark hair was shaved down to a 1, and his face was chisled and weathered, clearly of someone who worked very hard in the art of being a solider. His green eyes had a hard, but also wise and worldly look to them.

The second man, with the number 104, had the same kind of stature, albiet with darker hair that ( curiously ), had grey streaks through it. His face actually did seem that it would fit with such hair- lined, and having been through much- but it still wasn't _old_ , per se. His blue green eyes briefly sized up the entire hall.

The other two with him, were women.

One was a brunette, strikingly good looking- beautiful, really, numbered 87. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail that swung like a pendulum while she walked. While not nearly as big as the man, she was still in astonishly good shape, with toned, atheltic arms, and fully filled out thighs. Her own eyes- a standout, sapphire blue- were set into a face that was marked with scars, but still was very pretty.

The third of them, the second woman, numbered at 58 was built similarly to the first, but her appearance was quite different. Sporting dark red, burgandy hair, cut into a bob cut that just reached past her shoulders, the woman had an impassive, neutral expression, and piercingly green eyes, perhaps the most green a Human's could be.

All of them were rather pale, but not too much so.

Regardless, all at once, the hall's occupants reacted in one of two ways; half of them couldn't take their eyes off them, gaping and staring, with whispered comments to each other, or just outright exclamations of surprise, and amazement. Others, though, were the opposite; they were silent, seemingly unable to say a word. Or, maybe they were concered about saying the wrong thing.

Which was understandable.

Becasue, after all, these new arrivals, were Spartans.

* * *

" I am _hallucinating,_ for sure. ", Bridgette murmured.

She appeared fixated on the Spartans.

" Not just you ", added an entranced Halliceana.

On that man with the Number 117, to be exact. Haliceana had the same expression as her collegue; awe, respect, and perhaps just a dash of attraction.

Actually, it seemd virtually all the women in the hall were reacting that way, in some way, shape, or form, to the man. Granted, though, all the men were obviously very facsinated by the women. The Spartans, looming over everyone with their phenomenal height alone, were easily capturing such undivided attention.

Looks and imposingly giant stature aside, though, there was a whole different side to it.

Spartans were _legends._ It was, quite simply, the equal of talking about one of those superheroes of Earth's far distant past ( according to historical archives, they'd been known as ' Marvel ' , and ' DC ', ) only for them to actually _appear_ before you. In the _flesh_ , really there. You'd be talking them up, waxing poetic about how sensational they were, and perhaps, _just maybe_ , about how you'd witnessed thier prowess up close and personal.

They were larger than life, for absolute certain. They were _legends._ And that was without them actually being _right with you_. As familar as everyone was with Spartans, and having heard a lot about their abilities, and even watched them perform on the battlefield, but for all that, you considered having Spartans in your presence- or, rather, being in theirs-, and out of their armor, to boot.

Such a rarity. Truly.

" _Spartans_ ! "

" For real-? "

" Man, as I live and breathe- "

And so on, the troops reacted, as the Spartans proceeded through the hall, with perfectly smooth strides of thier long, powerful legs. They did not meet anyone's gaze voluntarily- mostly becasue nobody was seeking to do so- but, if someone did manage to, they'd nod briefly.

" Oh, they're heading our way ! ", whispered Bridgette. She was grinning widely now.

" Don't stare. Just let them get close ", Haliceana advised. But, she had the same smile on.

All the while, DeClance was a curious mix of amazement, and a tad resentfull. That Spartan with the number of 117 had completely stolen his thunder after all, let alone what Chiramazi had done to do that.

Why couldn't it have just been the two ladies ?

" Not sure what's so great ", he grunted, propping an elbow on the table, with his head on it.

Chiramazi found his reaction to all this hilairious.

" Oh, dear. Someone's jelous. ", he needled, on the verge of laughing out loud. " Came up a little short ? "

" Your mother, Chiramazi ", the other solider shot back.

The Spartans had nearly reached them now, heading for the center of the serving line, wrapping around the far side of the hall from where they'd enetered. They'd already gotten trays, and carried them loosely in one hand.

They wove past the tables, covering ground fast, and in the process, walked right alongside the three's table.

" _Hola_ ! Spartan ! "

Haliceana couldn't help herself. Just couldn't, and frankly, the men at the table weren't surprised. She called out to them, speaking directly to the man numbered 117.

She then stood, abandoning her half eaten food. Haliceana wasn't a short woman- 5'7-, but with the Spartans now so close, she was essentially a hobbit before them.

The group of giantesses and giants stopped, still in perfect formation; men in front, with the brunette just behind and to the right of 117, practically touching.

Haliceana's collegues- and just about everyone else- had their eyebrows shoot up with astonishment, DeClance in particular.

Bridgette seemed, shy ? The Australian kept rubbing the back of her neck, and looking down at her lap.

" Yes, solider ? ", asked 117, adressing Halliceana directly.

He spoke with resonant, gravelly voice. Strong, with an aura of command carried with it.

It seemed very fitting. The assembled soliders at the table realized they hadn't heard a Spartan speak aloud before. First, seeing them out of armor; now they were talking to them ?

Chiramazi accidentally toppled his drink glass, leaning back to take in the full height of these warriors of legend.

" Ah, um ", Halliceana stammered.

With all said and done about Spartans- their reputation, their height, ( and for her, and virtually all women ), the appearence of the men Spartans, and all for the first time, suddenly put a bit of a wrench into saying something.

Fortunetely, DeClance saw this as his moment. He stood as well

" Spartans I am Specialist DeClance ", he proclaimed, feeling a bit nervous about adressing them, but also excited.

117 looked over at him.

" That is Corpsman Mourica. Forgive her awkwardness, but I think, what she means- unless she's mistaken- is, that she's very glad you're on our side. We're indebted to you. "

" By we, he means us common folk ", Chiramazi supplied helpfully, indicating the little group, and the hall at large.

Bridgette, meanwhile, had been quiet all this time, probbably content to let everyone else take the lead. But, now, she stepped in.

" Corpsman Foster ", she piped up, and stood. " Its a please. We just wanted to say, well, what the Specialist over here just told you. You're doing great work out there ".

To drive the point home, she took another big step, and offered a hand. That, was something very few non Spartans were eager to do; they all knew of how alarmingly strong Spartans were, even out of armor, and were generally convinced that shaking a Spartan's hand would result in your hand getting crushed like it was caught in a hydraulic vise.

Still, someone here had to take the jump.

" Hali ", Bridgette prodded. " Come on. "

The Spainish woman had been gaping for a bit, watching the Spartans peering at her. All 4 of them were regarding the soliders with a silent bemusemnt, like celebrites aware of thier status among the masses, but not seeking to drive that point home. They seemed to want to emphasize " We're all on the same team here; Spartans, or not ".

Finally, Haliceana seemed to get it.

" Ah, yes, that's right ", She admitted, more confident now." I saw all of what you've done for the UEG, on so many different campaigns, all over everywhere. Heard so much, but I haven't actually met any of you, in person. "

" We know you, though ".

The redheaded Spartan woman had spoken. With a low, quiet voice that was the kind of someone used to spending most of their time alone, and who usually didn't socialize, even with others just like her.

" What, him ? ", Chiramazi gestured at DeClance.

The other Specialist was getting tempted to spike the Italian's food with something inedible. " Ha, ha, ".

" Actually, yes. ", the redhead confirmed.

!

" Hold on, wait- "

" He odio eso correcto ? ( Did I hear that right ? "

The Spainish Specialist, though, was the most stunned of all. To Chiramazi's great amusement, DeClance's jaw came open, and his eyes widened.

" Dios. It was you ?! You, you're a sniper ? ", he asked the redhead.

" The very best you will ever meet, and that's something I will swear to. "

The brunette Spartan woman. She had a pleasnt English accent, and teeth that were definetely not bad, for a Brit.

Now, it all was becoming clear. Now, DeClance understood what had happened that night, all too clearly. Who had been behind that scope, and saved him from certain death.

" You can thank me by continuing to serve with distinction and bravery. You're still a shamless flirt, but you're a good solider, Specialist DeClance. Well done down there. "

Everything the redheaded woman had just said, DeClance had hung on every word. Those around could see clearly that the pieces had instantly fallen into place in his head.

" Who- What is your name ?", he finally managed. " I have to know your name if I am to thank you properly. "

" Incoming fan mail", the man with grey streaks, numbered 104 warned the redhead, ending his silence for the first time, and mildly startling the troops.

" Its fine, Frederic "

Facing DeClance again, she answered him.

" You can call me Linda. "

DeClance was silent for a handful of seconds.

" Say something, pendejo ! ", Halicean exclaimed.

Bridgette chuckled.

Finally, DeClane reacted.

In a move that probbably none of his collegues were anticipating at all, he stepped forward, right up to Linda, stood on tiptoe, and kissed her.

!

That got a reaction out of even the Spartans; the numbered 117 raised an eyebrow, Frederic 104 smirked.

Linda was the most surprised of them all, obviosuly. She was a Spartan, and could easily have stopped DeClance at any point. But, nothing of that sort had happened, and it was done.

A short kiss, but it was meaningfull. DeClance stepped back, head bowed.

A few other soliders at a nearby table saw the whole thing, and were chattering rapidly about it.

" Woah, you saw that ?! "

" _Kissed, a Spartan_. She's a hot redhead, but still ! "

" Hello ! "

DeClance's tablemates were looking him with expressions of being ( for the girls ) impressed, and jeleous ( for Chirmazi ).

" Thank you, ", he said at last, with absolute sincerity. " Thanks. For _everything_. I won't ever forget it. "

Linda's astonisment ended. Her impassive, then surprised expression finally changed into something else.

A smile. It was small, just above a smirk, but it was real. A smile. Humble, but a smile.

" Anytime, Specialist DeClance ".


End file.
